I'd wait for you forever
by potterbite
Summary: Captain Swan AU. They meet, and realize they have met before, years ago.


**a/n: from a prompt at tumblr, "prostitute/client au" that's probably really far from what that sweet nonnie wanted.**

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><p>Emma saw the car approach, and how it consciously slowed down – people knew what kind of street this was, and didn't exactly stop for a burger there. She took a deep breath, gave her breasts a push and aimed for the black Sedan that had now stopped altogether.<p>

Whoever sat inside rolled down the window in the backseat just a few inches when they saw her, but she still bent as much forward as she could, putting her elbows on the roof of the car. If she was doing this, she might as well do it properly, get some more clients and get her boss off her back.

"Hey, sugar, would you be looking for some action tonight?"

A man responded in a British accent. "Perhaps I am." The door opened up, and she tried to figure out why it felt as if she'd heard that voice before. "Care to join me?"

She considered the offer for a moment, heard Ruby in her ear telling her to get the hell out of there, before checking to see if her gun was still in its holster. Feeling safer knowing it was there, she turned off her earpiece and got inside the car.

When she saw the man, she was disappointed to say the least. _It's always the attractive ones that are sleaze balls_, she thought. She shook the feeling of familiarity that had hit her, ignoring how he seemed to look at her in the same way, and smiled as wide as she could instead.

The chauffeur gave her a onceover, and held back whatever comment he had intended to give.

The man sitting next to her had a slight frown directed at her, so she returned it with one of her own.

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied, and turned away. She noticed he seemed to be missing his left hand, and almost bit her tongue trying not to ask about it. If he noticed it, he didn't say anything. In fact, he said nothing else until the chauffeur pulled the car to a stop outside one of the fancier hotels in the city.

"Wealthy, are we?" she drawled out in the voice she used on all her costumers, figured it might be time to start working her magic if she was to bust him before they hit the sack together.

(Although, with this one – she weren't so opposed to the idea as she had been with the others. Not that she'd ever hook up with someone she was about to arrest. _Off limits_, she repeated inside her head again and again, hoping the rest of her would listen.)

He checked them in to a room quickly, and they rode the elevator in silence. Taking the chance, she did her best to get a read off of him in order to prepare; was he violent? Scared? Nervous? Stronger than her? As if hearing her thoughts, he lifted his arm up to scratch behind his head, and when she saw the bicep flex she quickly estimated that he would easily take her in a wrestle if it came down to that, so she would just have to be quicker.

Once inside the room, he closed the door carefully before turning around to face her.

"What is your rating?"

Straight to the point. "200 bucks an hour. 700 for the entire night." After a few weeks of doing this, the numbers rolled of her lips with no problem, after having learned how much she should charge the hard way.

(Her first client had been thrilled when she'd told him she charged 50 bucks an hour, and had all but started humping her leg. She barely got out her handcuffs in time, and when he understood he wasn't getting laid, he spat her right in the face. She punched him as hard as she could between the legs, and didn't bother hiding her grin when the rest of her team showed up to take him away.)

He didn't even hesitate, and picked up a wallet instantly. "Excellent." He took a pile of bills out and stretched out his hand slowly, almost seeming to gauge her reaction. She accepted the money and turned around to put them on the desk behind her to get both hands free to open up the handcuffs. She didn't get that far.

"Hands where I can see them, you are under arrest." As slowly as she could, she turned back to face the man and saw him holding out a badge, a gun clearly visible now, sitting in a holster in his belt. She took a step forward to examine his badge and easily came to the conclusion it was very real; she laughed, and turned on her earpiece again.

"It's okay, Ruby," she said, figured it would be better to not have her entire team burst through the door in panic because she had turned it off, only to arrest a cop. When Ruby had confirmed she had heard, Emma switched it off again, not wanting to hear Ruby's questions just yet.

She met his gaze and saw his raised eyebrow. "Cop. Want me to show you my badge?"

"Preferably, yes."

She fished it out from the inside of her leggings and handed it over, before turning around to get the money and give it back to him. He nodded to himself when he understood that she was telling the truth – looking surprisingly relieved – and passed it back to her and took the money instead.

"Name's Killian Jones." He held out his hand for her to take, that look where he tried to measure a response on his face again, and she accepted.

"Emma Swan."

He flinched when she said her name – small, but noticeable – but didn't explain, so Emma didn't want to ask either. She knew all about not wanting to get too personal with people, and even less complete strangers.

"Nothing left here for us to do then," she remarked when they let go of each other. He nodded.

"Let's leave."

.

"Two districts working the same neighborhood is probably not such a good idea," Emma said as they rode down the elevator again, just to fill the silence with _something_. She had seen the districts number on his badge, and knew it was not far from where she'd been working for the last few weeks.

"Aye," he agreed, and waited a beat. "We've met before."

She turned her head towards him, quickly enough to get a small whiplash injury, because _of course_ she hadn't been imagining it when she thought she recognized that voice – or those eyes.

"I – I thought I recognized you, but I can't – "

"Vegas, five years and two bottles of rum ago."

As the light went on inside her head, she felt a blush creep up on her cheeks. It had been right after she and Graham had ended things, and she had tried to drown her sorrows with alcohol and sex; she only had a few memories from that night, and had woken up to an empty bed and a note with an apology and a number on it. Since she couldn't remember who she'd been with, she didn't dare call, but had been glad to find she still had her jewelry.

"Oh." She couldn't think of the proper thing to say, because what did you say after having realized you not only had run in to a one-night stand that happened ages ago, but also having found out that you were ridiculously attracted to said one-night stand and had almost arrested him thinking he wanted to buy _services_ from a prostitute?

"I went looking for you." He spoke quietly, all but whispering, and his words hit Emma straight in the heart – which she wasn't even sure was still beating. The elevator suddenly seemed like such a small space, but she steadied herself for the blow out that she deserved.

He didn't say anything else, though, and kept looking at her as if waiting for her to speak.

The elevator doors opened up and they walked out together.

"You – you're not mad?"

His eyebrows went up high on his forehead as he turned to look at her. "Why would I be mad? Can't force a woman to be interested, no matter how _intriguing_ the night was." He licked his lips – possibly unintentionally, she wasn't sure – and then shrugged. As if it was that simple.

(It _was_ that simple. Emma had just never met a man that had accepted the simplicity that fast, even going as far as understanding it.)

(She had probably dated a few too many assholes.)

"I – well, yes, that's true," she agreed, but the need for him to know _why_ bothered her still.

When they got outside, she stopped and he did the same, putting his hand in the pocket of his pants, continuing to look at her. She kept her eyes somewhere to the left of his head, not sure if she could look him in the eyes as she spoke.

"It's wasn't that, though. I couldn't – hrm." Annoyed with herself for not getting the words right, she dragged a hand through her hair. "This would be the embarrassing part where I admit I drank more than a teenager at a high school keg party, but the thing is, I couldn't remember a thing after I woke up, and since you had left I figured you had seen me, and panicked, and left a note just to be polite, and you could've been a nutjob for all I knew." She took a deep breath, having spoken too fast for her lungs to catch up, and met his eyes this time. "Hence me not calling," she finished in a quieter voice.

He held her gaze for a while – seconds? Minutes? Forever? She couldn't be quite sure – before his whole face burst out into a giant grin.

"I can assure you, Emma, I did not '_see you and panic'_. I had a shift at the station that day and had to catch the first flight home, already having missed the one I was supposed to be on the night before." He took a hesitant step closer to her. "I had no time to explain it all on a note, and hoped you would call so I could tell you then."

"I'm sorry I didn't call then," she grinned back, enjoying the easy mood. "And sorry for wanting to arrest you tonight."

"Sorry for almost arresting you, too."

A silence fell between them again, much more comfortable this time, and Emma understood that she had to be the one to say something now.

"Perhaps we could get coffee sometime," she hesitantly asked, and he practically beamed in response as he reached into the pocket of his jacket to fetch a pencil and an old receipt. He scribbled down some digits and handed it over to Emma.

"Call me."

"This time I will," she promised as she put the note safely in her back pocket, before closing the gap between them, letting their lips meet in a kiss that made Emma feel things she was sure she had buried a long time ago, a tingle in the pit of her stomach, toes curling contentedly.

She let herself fall back a small step after a short time, and caught the look in his eyes even as he took a deep breath and swallowed.

"Trying to remember," she explained.

"And?"

"Nothing yet," she said with a head tilt, before starting to grin wide and taking a firm grip on the lapels of his jacket. "I guess we'll just have to keep trying." And dove in again.


End file.
